


Put a Ring on It

by poisonivory



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You could just get super drunk.”</p><p>“Matthew. Buddy. Best pal and future business partner. I have <i>been</i> super drunk,” Foggy points out. “For days. I am still a little drunk. I am planning on getting drunker still. But <i>first</i>,” and his voice becomes very determined, “I am going to make a statement that I am a new man. A bold man. A <i>single-and-ready-to-mingle man</i>. Take <i>that</i>, Marci Stahl.”</p><p>Matt raises his eyebrows. “By getting your nipple pierced.”</p><p>“You bet your ass.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put a Ring on It

**Author's Note:**

> Over on Tumblr it was pointed out that [Elden Henson has a nipple piercing, and there should be fic where Foggy does, too](http://werelibrarian.tumblr.com/post/140002292672/ilikedaredevil-ilikedaredevil-elden-henson). So. This happened. Shameless PWP with a cheesy title, HAVE FUN.
> 
> Mild warning: the actual piercing scene is included, in case that squicks you out, but it's not graphic at all.)

Matt wrinkles his nose. Everything around him smells like blood and metal and the reek of human fear. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Foggy says. “Yes. I am… _yes_.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“It’s not about that.”

“You could just get super drunk.”

“Matthew. Buddy. Best pal and future business partner. I have _been_ super drunk,” Foggy points out. “For days. I am still a little drunk. I am planning on getting drunker still. But _first_ ,” and his voice becomes very determined, “I am going to make a statement that I am a new man. A bold man. A _single-and-ready-to-mingle_ man. Take _that_ , Marci Stahl.”

Matt raises his eyebrows. “By getting your nipple pierced.”

“You bet your ass.”

Matt sighs and sinks down lower on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the tattoo parlor’s waiting room. “Why?”

“For the closure!” Foggy says, swinging his arm out grandiloquently. Yep, definitely still a little drunk.

“Shouldn’t Marci be involved with that?”

“Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. Closure is something you give _yourself_ ,” Foggy says. “And I am giving it to myself in the form of a nipple piercing.” He shifts forward into his explaining mode. “Look, this is the kind of thing my sister swears by. Some major physical change after a bad breakup to represent the new you. Every time she’s broken up with a serious boyfriend she’s chopped all her hair off.”

“Well, why don’t you do that?” Matt suggests, even though he really doesn’t want Foggy to cut his hair. He likes the sound of it when it moves and the way it smells. But it _does_ seem less permanent. And less painful.

“And lose the source of my amazing powers? Bite your tongue, Delilah!” Foggy says, and Matt grins. “I dunno, I just always wanted a nipple ring. I mean, not _always_ always, I was not a super creepy four-year-old, but since high school, yeah.”

“But won’t it hurt?”

“That’s why I brought my best buddy to hold my hand!” Foggy says, and gives Matt’s shoulder a playful squeeze. “And hey, come on, this doesn’t just have to be about me. We could get matching nips! Or you could get a tattoo, there’s lots of really Jesus-y designs up on the walls. I could help you pick.”

Matt laughs. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Okay, fine, this one of Tweety Bird wearing a giant pair of pants, then.”

Matt tilts his head. “Are you talking nonsense because you’re nervous?”

“You’re _definitely_ graduating summa cum laude.”

Someone enters the room - a heavyset man smelling of ink and metal, holding a clipboard. “Nelson?”

Matt and Foggy are the only ones in the waiting room - apparently Sunday afternoons are not exactly a hot time for tattoos and piercings - but Foggy still raises his hand like he’s in class. “Me, that’s me. I’m Nelson.”

“Come on back, kid,” the man says. “You can bring your boyfriend if he’s not squeamish.”

He turns to leave and Foggy elbows Matt gently in the ribs. “Well, sweetie? You squeamish?”

Matt snorts. It’s hardly the first time someone’s assumed they’re a couple, and it won’t be the last. “Not really, though I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“You have the most tasteless jokes.”

“You love it.”

The back room is chilly but surprisingly clean, which is good. Matt’s already decided that if he smells anything sketchy he’ll make up an excuse to get Foggy out of there, but it doesn’t seem like that’ll be necessary.

Which means Foggy’s going to go through with it.

Foggy strips off his shirt on the tattoo artist’s orders and lies down on something that vaguely resembles a dentist’s chair to Matt’s senses. The tattoo artist pulls up another one of those uncomfortable chairs. “There’s a seat about two inches behind you, buddy,” Foggy says, and Matt makes a show of feeling for the chair.

“Okay, we doing lefty or righty today?” the tattoo artist asks.

“The left, please,” Foggy says.

“Got it,” says the tattoo artist, and launches into a lengthy description of what he’s about to do and what Foggy will need to do to keep the piercing clean and free of infection going forward. Matt listens carefully over the frantic pounding of Foggy’s heart, just in case Foggy’s too nervous to process the instructions properly.

“Okay, so this spray’s gonna numb you up a bit and then we’ll get this over with,” the tattoo artist says. There’s a hiss, a sharp cold scent in the air, and Foggy yelps. “Yeah, it’s a kick.”

“ _Super_ fun,” Foggy drawls. “You should sell cans of that stuff on the side.”

The tattoo artist chuckles. “Don’t worry, you and the boyfriend will have plenty of fun with the piercing on its own once it’s all healed up.”

Matt feels his ears heat up and hopes they’re not too visibly red. Thinking he and Foggy are a couple is one thing, but that joke was a little too specific for his comfort.

“Matty?” Foggy asks, and for a horrified minute Matt thinks Foggy’s noticed his blush until he picks up Foggy’s hand reaching out with his senses. “Do not _ever_ tell Marci about this, but...friend in need at your twelve o’ clock.”

Matt gropes forward until his fingers brush Foggy’s sweaty palm, and Foggy latches on. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

“You’d better.” Foggy takes a deep breath as the tattoo artist picks up something metal. “Okay, closing my eyes, this sight will forever be a mystery to the both of us…”

There’s an unpleasant noise and Foggy’s hand tightens on Matt’s hard enough to hurt. Matt can smell fresh blood and the tang of pain added to the frightened, anxious pheromones Foggy’s radiating. “ _Jesus_ ,” Foggy hisses. “That was...ah, shit, we are getting _so_ drunk after this.”

“Just as long as you don’t get too drunk to remember to clean it,” the tattoo artist says. “Congrats, kid, you are now pierced.”

“Woo,” Foggy cheers dully, and slackens his grip on Matt’s hand. But he’s shaking, so Matt doesn’t let go. He’s glad it’s over, but he’s baffled. That was _entirely_ awful. Why would anyone do this to themselves?

*

For some reason Foggy appears to be under the impression that Matt wants to know every detail of his nipple piercing progress.

“It’s all scabby!” he announces that night as he changes for bed. “It’s super gross, Matt, you’re really missing out.”

“Yeah, it sounds like a party,” Matt says as he folds up his glasses. Ugh.

“Scab’s gone!” Foggy declares a couple days later. “It still feels weird, though. Kind of numb. Very pink. I feel generally lopsided. Matt, do I _sound_ lopsided?”

“Yes, but that’s nothing new,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs and informs Matt that he’s flipping him off even though he isn’t.

“I...huh,” Foggy says a couple days after that. “... _Huh_.”

Matt pauses in his reading. He knows Foggy’s sitting on his bed with his shirt off, book forgotten as he pokes at his nipple ring, but he can’t say any of that. “What?”

“Nothing, just…” Foggy does something with his fingers. There is the faintest, barely-perceptible sound of metal on skin, and a smell in the air Matt can’t place. “My piercing. It’s not numb anymore. It’s almost… _more_ sensitive? Than it was? I think?”

“Oh,” Matt says. “Uh, congratulations?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, sounding distracted. There’s the sound again, and a surprised hitch of breath from Foggy, and - 

_Oh._ The smell is _arousal_ , the faintest beginning stages of it. Foggy is turned on. That nipple must be _really_ sensitive.

Well, good for Foggy. He deserves something nice after such a rough breakup, and Matt can vouch for exceptional sensitivity sometimes being very fun in the bedroom. Not that this is a bedroom. Well, it _is_ , of course, or at least a dorm room with two beds in it, but he and Foggy aren’t...this isn’t…

Matt shifts in his seat and tries to tune out how uneven Foggy’s breathing is right now. He has studying to do.

*

Foggy _plays_ with the ring.

A _lot_.

Never in public, of course, he wouldn't do that. But when it's just the two of them alone in their dorm room - or presumably just Foggy, though Matt can't confirm that for obvious reasons - he plays with it. Idly, through his shirt, a distracted habit. Or sometimes with no shirt on at all, especially as the weather gets warmer - fiddling with it, the softest sounds against his skin, the barest hitch in his breath.

It makes Matt feel...funny. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but a little warm, and very, very _aware_ of everything Foggy's doing. But he can't exactly ask him to _stop_ , not without explaining how he knows Foggy's doing it in the first place.

He's not sure he _wants_ Foggy to stop.

“Got a new ring,” Foggy announces one afternoon when he comes back to the dorm.

Matt pauses his recorded lecture. “For your phone?” he asks distractedly.

Foggy laughs. “A new _nipple_ ring,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

“This one’s, like, an actual ring,” Foggy explains. “The last one was a barbell, this one’s a little hoop with a ball on it. It's heavier, I can feel it a lot more.”

“Is that a good thing?” Matt asks. He wonders if he's blushing. He _feels_ like he's blushing.

“Just gotta get used to it, I think,” Foggy says. “Hey, you finish your paper for Lopez’s class yet?”

Matt takes the subject change gratefully, but he can’t help wondering about the nipple ring. He doesn’t even have a particularly clear picture of what it looks like, even with Foggy’s description; he wasn’t exactly around a lot of body piercings before his tenth birthday. He remembers hoop earrings, big gold ones on the cashier at the bodega closest to his apartment, but surely that’s not what Foggy means. Surely it’s smaller, thicker, heavier. And gold seems a bit flashy. Matt can’t really hear or smell different kinds of metal at that size, but he could do it by taste - he’d be able to identify what the ring is made of if he got his mouth on it.

...Whoa. That’s - he’s hard, he’s hard suddenly and fervently grateful that he’s sitting at his desk instead of lying on his bed. That’s...that’s…

No. He pushes the thought away and concentrates on his paper and very, very carefully does _not_ think about asking Foggy if he can taste any part of him. It’s a weird fluke, that’s all. He’s not a teenager anymore, but he’s not far from it. These things happen.

Except he’s pretty sure Foggy plays with the hoop even _more_ than he played with the barbell - sliding it back and forth, flicking it up and down, screwing and unscrewing the little ball that locks it into place. That last is the worst, because Matt can _hear_ the scrape of the metal, the ball unwinding along the threads of the ring and tightening again as Foggy opens and shuts it. It’s a faint, grating noise that would be annoying under any other circumstances, but this, somehow, is even worse than annoying.

This goes straight to Matt’s dick, every time.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe it’s that he knows Foggy’s shirtless when he does it. Maybe it’s that he knows Foggy does it because he likes the way it feels. Maybe it’s just because Matt’s a giant creep - he certainly feels like it some days. Either way, the minute he hears the faint sound of metal on metal, his boner tries to join the party.

It gets worse when Foggy starts dating again.

He wanders into their room late one Saturday morning, smelling like stale beer and sex. “Hey, Matty.”

Matt pastes on a smile that grows more sincere when Foggy pushes a paper cup of coffee into his hand. “Nice night?”

“It was all right,” Foggy says, but Matt can hear the grin in his voice - the same one he’d been wearing when he’d nudged Matt in the ribs at last night’s party and said he was heading out with Lawrence, and could Matt get home okay by himself?

Of course he could. Matt manages just fine by himself.

“You going to see him again?” Matt asks. He’s good at this, now, being a supportive friend who asks thoughtful questions about Foggy’s love life and doesn’t stumble over pronouns. Foggy taught him that.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I kind of like it just being a one-time thing, I think,” Foggy says. “Well, three times, technically, but one _night_.”

Matt’s hand tightens on the cup he’s holding and he hastily puts it down before he spills on himself. “I’m proud of you, buddy.”

Foggy chuckles. “For which part? The stamina or loving and leaving ‘em Murdock-style?”

That isn’t - is that what Foggy thinks Matt does? Matt settles for saying, “Do I have to pick?” and turns back to his computer to hide his frown.

“Mmf,” Foggy says noncommittally, and shifts on his mattress. “I will say one thing. The nipple piercing? _Excellent_ choice.”

A prickle of heat runs up Matt’s neck. “Oh?”

“Lawrence _really_ enjoyed it. And I enjoyed him enjoying it.” There’s warm satisfaction in Foggy’s voice. Matt wants to die. “It really does make everything more sensitive. You ever think about getting one?”

“Uh. I. Uh.” Increased sensitivity is the _last_ thing Matt needs. No, just Foggy’s mouth on his bare skin would be enough, the heat and wetness, the pressure of his tongue…

“Or would Jesus not approve?” Foggy continues, unwittingly saving Matt.

“Yes!” Matt blurts, too loud. “Yes. Yep. Yeah. Definitely not church-approved, sorry.”

Foggy chuckles. “I apologize for dragging you down to perdition with my heathenous ways.”

“Hah.” Oh, Matt can sin on his own just fine.

He hears Foggy groan as he stretches and considers that Foggy might actually be trying to kill him on _purpose_. “Well, I’m gonna take a little nap, buddy. You good?”

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Foggy rolls over and Matt waits, frozen, until he hears Foggy’s breathing and heartbeat smooth out into the familiar cadence of sleep.

Then he makes a beeline for the bathroom, hunched over and embarrassed, and locks himself in a stall. He can’t help the needy sound he lets out when he gets his pants open and his hand around his dick. He can’t help wondering what kind of sounds _Foggy_ would let out if he ever let Matt _touch_.

He’s going to hell for sure.

*

Matt’s burning up. Incandescent, swallowed up in flames, and all Foggy’s done is press him up against the door of his apartment and kiss him senseless.

“Foggy,” Matt manages, head tipped back against the door as Foggy makes his scorching way down Matt’s throat. He can’t quite believe he’s here, after everything - after all the secrets and all the fighting, the breakup and restoration of Nelson and Murdock, a fumbled accidental confession, and now - now - 

Now Foggy’s tongue is on his pulse and Matt’s fingers are twitching against Foggy’s hips and Matt can’t quite figure out what marvelous thing he’s done to deserve a reward so great.

“ _Matty_ ,” Foggy groans, the nickname that always makes Matt’s chest feel tight and happy, and leans up to capture Matt’s mouth again. He pushes forward, pressed full-length against Matt, and Matt can’t decide what’s more dizzying: the hard-on digging into his hip, or the little round piece of metal he can feel through his shirt and Foggy’s.

He’s finally going to be allowed to touch. He’s finally going to be allowed to touch _everywhere_.

“Bedroom,” he suggests, because if he doesn’t he’s just going to let Foggy make him come in his pants against the door, and as good as that sounds, he wants to savor this.

“ _God_ yes,” Foggy agrees, and pulls back enough to tug him down the hall.

It takes them a while to make it to the bedroom - Matt can’t stop pulling Foggy back to him, touching, stealing kisses. Foggy laughs against his mouth as they stumble into the doorframe. “Watch it, Murdock, you don’t want to have to replace this silly sliding door again.”

Matt nips at his lower lip. “Don’t care.”

“Yeah, well _I_ do. I’m the one who has to fix everything you break in here, remember?” Foggy asks. “You only love me for my handyman skills, admit it.”

“I’m eagerly anticipating your _handyman skills_ , that’s true,” Matt says, and Foggy groans a laugh.

“That was _terrible_. I’m leaving.”

Matt grins as Foggy’s hands tighten on his hips, in contrast to his words. “So go.”

“I will.” Foggy’s heart does a happy little trip-step as Matt pushes closer. “Hh. Maybe in. In a few minutes.”

“A few hours,” Matt amends.

“A few decades,” Foggy says, easily sincere, and - yeah, that’s it, Matt needs him in bed _now_.

Foggy laughs again as Matt all but throws him onto the mattress, climbs on top of him, and starts working on his tie. “Naked. Now,” Matt demands.

“Bossy,” Foggy teases, cheerfully doing nothing at all to help and instead sliding his palms over the curve of Matt’s ass. “Oh, hello, old friend.”

Matt tosses Foggy’s tie to the floor and starts working on the buttons of his shirt. “Are you talking to me or my ass?”

“Shh, quiet, Murdock, I’m communing.” Foggy gives Matt a playful squeeze and Matt rocks against him, biting back a laugh. “So many long years gazing soulfully across the distance between us, and now here we are.”

Matt grins. “Have you been perving on me behind my back?” he asks, curving forward to kiss Foggy.

Foggy smiles against his lips. “Perhaps in the...general _direction_ of your back,” he admits, and lets go of Matt’s ass in deference to Matt’s impatient tugging at his shirt. “Okay, okay, I’m moving! Learn how to romance a boy, would you?”

Matt drops the shirt on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he says, faux-contrite, and cups Foggy’s face in his palms. “ _Darling_.” He bends to kiss Foggy again, slow and deep this time, as earnest as he knows how to make it. From the way Foggy’s heartbeat picks up, his efforts aren’t wasted.

“O-okay,” Foggy breathes when Matt releases him. “Sarcastic pet names aside, yes, good job, excellent romancing.”

Matt beams at him. “Dearest,” he says. “Sweetness. _Moonbeam_.” He punctuates each one with a kiss until they’re both laughing too hard to keep it up.

“Skip the endearments, baby, that’s my bag,” Foggy says, brushing Matt’s hair out of his eyes. It makes no difference to Matt whether or not his hair is in his eyes, but he knows Foggy likes to see them, to see _him_. The knowledge makes him feel fizzy and bright.

“I suppose I can find something else to do with my mouth,” Matt drawls, and plants a kiss on Foggy’s chin. Foggy tilts his face for a better angle, but Matt bypasses his mouth, moving lower over the soft underside of Foggy’s chin. He licks over Foggy’s adam’s apple and feels it jump when he swallows.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Foggy sighs, audibly pleased. Pride blooms in Matt’s chest. _He_ did that. “Much better.”

Matt traces the thrum of Foggy’s pulse with his tongue and lets his hands slide lower - down Foggy’s neck, across the slope of his shoulders, over the rapid beat of his heart, and out. One hand encounters a soft nipple that responds beautifully to the brush of Matt’s thumb, hardening into a stiff peak. The other hits metal - a small, thick ring, warm from Foggy’s body heat.

Anticipation surges through Matt, a bright spark of _finally_ in the overall landscape of _finally_ that is the whole of this night. “Foggy,” he says, lifting his head and brushing his fingers over the metal. “Foggy, can I…?”

“Huh?” Foggy asks, and Matt flicks the ring upwards to make his intent clear. “Oh, yeah, go for it, buddy.”

Matt swallows and skates his fingers around the edge of Foggy’s left nipple. It’s responding too, hardening under Matt’s attention. The ring goes through the base of it, that little ball Matt’s so familiar with the sound of hanging down when Foggy’s upright. Matt slides the ring back and forth gently, feeling how easily it moves, listening to the way it makes Foggy’s breathing catch. He tugs, carefully, and Foggy gasps.

“Uh. Matty?” he says. His voice is shaky and aroused. “You look, uh. Intense. And pretty red. Is this...is this a thing for you?”

However red Matt already was, he’s pretty sure he flames even brighter at that. “It might be.”

“ _Really_ ,” Foggy says. His hand kneads at Matt’s thigh. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this _years_ ago, I would have used it to seduce you so much earlier.”

Matt’s just...not going to say anything to that. It’s safer that way. But what he’s feeling must show on his face, because Foggy’s hand stills on his thigh.

“Matt?” he says. “How _long_ has this been a thing for you?”

Matt closes his eyes and ducks his head. “...When did you get it done, again?”

“Oh my God.” Foggy is grinning, Matt can tell. “Oh my _God_. Really?”

“You used to - _play_ with it!” Matt protests. “All the time! And I could, uh. I could _hear_ it.”

Foggy still sounds like he’s grinning as he scratches Matt’s thigh gently through his jeans. “So you were sitting there on the verge of being seduced and I had _no_ idea. Me with my giant crush on you and everything.”

He’s so casual about admitting his crush that it makes it easier for Matt to say, “Less ‘verge of being seduced’ and more ‘desperately trying to hide a boner.’”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Foggy says again, but this time he’s not laughing at Matt. His hands slide from Matt’s thighs to his fly, pausing before he unbuttons it. “No need to hide anything now, buddy.”

Matt catches his wrists. “Later,” he says. “Right now, I just want to…” He leans in, kisses Foggy again, then scoots down a little to capture Foggy’s unpierced nipple in his mouth. Foggy gasps softly and arches as Matt flicks his tongue across the tip, sucks gently, blows across the damp, cooling skin.

He lets go of Foggy’s hands and they find their way to Matt’s hair, scratching lightly. Matt would purr if he could. “ _Yeah_ ,” Foggy breathes. “Yeah, later is good.”

Matt kisses his way across Foggy’s chest. Foggy’s ribs, his bones vibrate with his heartbeat and his breathing and the rush of blood in his veins, and Matt loves it, the way he can feel all the mechanics of Foggy’s life beneath his touch.

And then he’s across, tracing the tip of his tongue around Foggy’s left nipple, and Foggy sighs and shifts beneath him, fingers pressing into the base of Matt’s skull.

“Still super sensitive?” Matt asks without bothering to raise his head, so that his lips and his breath caress Foggy’s skin.

“Oh yeah,” Foggy says, squirming. “Is this what it’s like for you everywhere?”

Matt grins and tries to flick his gaze up towards to meet Foggy’s. “You’re free to find out once I’m done with you.”

“Oh no,” Foggy says. “That sounds ominous. I’m about to become one of Daredevil’s victims, help, help!” It could have been too touchy of a joke, but he says it so brightly, his fingers so warm in Matt’s hair, that Matt just smiles and lowers his head again.

He sucks the ring into his mouth, exploring. It’s stainless steel, warm from touching Foggy but still cooler than his skin. Matt runs the tip of his tongue over the places where the metal meets flesh, fascinated by the contrast: the metallic tang against the salt of Foggy’s sweat, the hard smooth curve of the ring against the softness and all the little ridges and dips and beautiful imperfections of Foggy’s skin.

“Matt,” Foggy breathes, and then stutters out a gasp when Matt _sucks_ , tugging gently on the ring with his lips and tongue. “Yeah, that’s...that’s good, keep...keep…” His voice trails off as he apparently forgets what he’s saying, and Matt would smile if his mouth wasn’t full.

Instead, he sweeps his hand up over Foggy’s side, from his hip over the plush give of his belly, his expanding and contracting ribcage, the tickle under his arm that makes him squirm deliciously beneath Matt. He teases the nipple that’s not in his mouth with his fingers, coaxes more soft little sounds out of Foggy and revels in every one of them.

“So should’ve done this in college,” Foggy says, petting at Matt’s hair. “Just jumped me. I wouldn’t have minded.” His voice is shaky and low, and Matt wants to make him sound like that as frequently as humanly possible.

“I’m jumping you now,” Matt points out without moving his mouth away, and tries to memorize the way Foggy shivers.

“I don’t mind that, either.”

Matt smiles and keeps going, kissing and licking and _touching_ the way he’s wanted to for so long. He tries to catalog everything he’s getting from Foggy: the rapid drum of his heartbeat, the uneven draw of his breath, the wet sounds as he swallows and licks his lips. The gasps, the soft broken moans. The taste of salt and the scent of arousal, heavy and musky on the back of Matt’s tongue.

It’s too much; it’s too good, too sweet. He can’t break it down into its component parts. It’s just one overwhelming picture: _Foggy_ , coming apart underneath him. Foggy, wanting him.

Foggy, letting Matt love him.

“Matt,” Foggy pants. His hips are twitching up against Matt steadily now, helpless and eager. “ _Matt_.”

“I got you, buddy,” Matt says, and slides his hips down to straddle Foggy’s thigh instead of his hips. Leaning his weight on his right arm, he reaches down with the left to open Foggy’s fly and push his boxers out of the way. The _noise_ Foggy makes when Matt’s hand wraps around his dick is one Matt would have happily waited a lifetime to hear. “This okay?”

Foggy nods against the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, please, Matty.”

Foggy’s leaking already and Matt’s hand glides easily over the heated flesh, slides and strokes. Foggy groans when Matt settles into a rhythm, and again when Matt lowers his head to capture the ring again, matching the pulse of his mouth to the speed of his hand. He wants to give Foggy more than just a handjob, and soon; he wants to spend the next few weeks - or _months_ \- working through every furtive fantasy he’s ever had about his best friend. But right now, he doesn’t want to wait.

And Foggy’s not complaining, not by a long shot. “Yeah, Matty. Like that,” he says, clutching at Matt’s shoulders. “Just like that.”

Matt lifts his head for a second. “I dreamed about this,” he says. His voice is huskier than he expected. “I dreamed about you. How you’d smell.” A delicate lick. “How you’d _taste_.”

Foggy lets out a shuddery breath. “ _Fuck_. Am I living down to expectations?”

Matt laughs, kisses the center of Foggy’s chest, tightens his hand. “You’re perfect.”

He stops drawing it out, then, stroking Foggy in earnest, tugging at the ring with his lips, and Foggy’s soft noises quickly turn into none-too-soft moans. Matt loves them, loves the way Foggy sounds and feels when he’s coming apart at Matt’s touch, and when Foggy pleads with Matt that he’s so close, he’s _so close Matty please_ , it might be the sweetest sound Matt’s ever heard.

When Foggy comes with a choked gasp, it’s _definitely_ the sweetest sound Matt’s ever heard.

Matt strokes him through it, savoring the rattle of breath in Foggy’s lungs. He wipes his hand on his own shirt, pulls the shirt off and tosses it to the floor, and flops to the side, his hand splayed across Foggy’s chest to feel the rise and fall of it. He’s achingly hard in his jeans, but he can wait. Right now, he just wants to drink in Foggy’s afterglow.

“So,” Foggy says after a long moment, “you _really_ like the nipple ring.”

“Mm, it’s okay,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs and rolls over to kiss him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Murdock. You’ve been thinking about that for a long time.”

“It’s possible.”

Foggy presses his grin against Matt’s cheek so he can feel it, slides a thigh between Matt’s legs, and runs his hand down Matt’s back to pull him close. Matt makes a little bitten-off noise when Foggy grinds Matt down against his leg with his grip on Matt’s ass. “Okay, Mr. Understatement. You want me to show you some of the things _I’ve_ been thinking about for a long time?”

Matt smiles and lets Foggy roll him onto his back, lets Foggy unzip his fly and work his jeans down his legs. “Please,” he says over the thump of his jeans hitting the floor.

And Foggy does.

**Author's Note:**

> Foggy, don't sleep with Larry Cranston, he's a [supervillain](http://marvel.com/universe/Mister_Fear_\(Larry_Cranston\)).
> 
> ETA: Check out [this helpful comment](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/57469717) from **meinterrupted** for some clarification on nipple rings!


End file.
